


In the company of wolves

by FlowersAndLace



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Rotkäppchen | Little Red Riding Hood (Fairy Tale), The Bloody Chamber - Angela Carter, The Company of Wolves
Genre: English is not language of my Patria, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, Making Angela Carter spin, Making Hugo Spin, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Seduction, Total misusing of Freudian symbolism, Werewolf, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:01:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlowersAndLace/pseuds/FlowersAndLace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/11823.html?thread=3123247#t3123247<br/>"little red riding hood!jehan and big bad wolf!grantaire. whether that is literal or figurative is up to author. just no eating please. well, no painful and deadly kind of eating:)"</p><p>Les Misérables meet Angela Carter´s dirty masterpiece Bloody Chamber.  (The latter is a treasure-chest of wonderful imagery  but  also a cesspool of  juvenile vulgarity and  the cheerfully ageist attitudes of Gothic genre, fairytales and Commedia dell´arte: everyone over 30 is evil or just guilty for existing.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the company of wolves

**Author's Note:**

> According to the old European folklore, a child born from rape became a werewolf.

When the snow covered the forest, the wolves came.

 

"I like the color red." Grantaire watched Jean´s blood colored jacket, pure and bright against bone white snow. "Do you want to share more red with me?"

He raised the green bottle; a young man, couple of years older than Jean,  without coat or cloak of any kind, here in the middle of the forest.  His stylish vest was as green as the bottle in his hand. 

Jean hesitated. "I think we should continue. There are wolves in the forest."

"I don´t care. They don´t attack humans. "

"There are werewolves in the forest."

"I don´t care. They don´t attack me." Grantaire opened the wine bottle and gave it to Jean, who hesitated, then took a gulp. Grantaire smiled, took the bottle back and  drank deeply.  "I have seen you in the forest. With an old woman." 

 "She is my grandmother."

Grantaire put the bottle to the snow,  carefully  backing it against the rock. "My mother never stayed in the path. She wrote  wonderful, flowery  prose poems about castles and forests, roses and  pure red ball-gowns.  She never married.  Local people were angry, believing that this uppity spinster  thought herself too good for them and their men."  

He bent forward and kissed Jean.  

"Tastes like wine." Grantaire  licked his  own lips and smiled.  

 

 


End file.
